Strictly Business
by sableambiguity
Summary: "Even the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry." When Zuko, a young businessman, mapped out the rest of his life, he never counted on meeting her. -a modern AU-
1. Charity Work

**A/N:** This is probably all you'll hear from me the whole way through. Just a heads-up, Avatar is not mine. (Duh.) This story, however, is.

Consider this a snapshot series. I'll be chronicling key events in their courtship, but probably not much more. If you, the readers, have ideas, please throw them my way! More often than not I'm inspired and try to find ways to incorporate them.

If you readers think this needs an actual plot summary here, let me know and I'll add one in. Thank you for reading! :)

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* * *

Charity Work_

"Mom, I already said I'll be there tonight."

"I know, honey, but you always say that and half the time you don't show up until the very end. I need you to get there early this time."

"Why?" The single word came out harsher than he'd wanted, and he amended, "I have a big account I'm working on right now. I'm already taking time out to come to this." Another moment passed, and for good measure he tacked on a dutiful, "Because I know how much it means to you."

"Well, I appreciate that, honey, but you getting there early means a lot to me, too. I met the most wonderful girl and I wanted to introduce you—"

"Mom, no. No, no, no, _no_."

But Ursa kept talking without even missing a beat. "—And I know you two will hit it off. Can't you make it just a few minutes early just for your darling mother?"

His mind was working at lightspeed. If he came up with a viable excuse, he knew his mother would let him out of the arrangement, but it also meant she'd find every opportunity from that point on to introduce him to the girl anyway. He could lie and say he was already seeing someone, but that would prompt a slew of questions and a bunch more lies.

He hated lying to his mother.

It was probably best to bite the bullet this time. A charity dinner wasn't exactly a date, and if the girl was a total loss he'd be at his father's table. It would be easy enough to slip out after the meal was served without ever seeing a soul.

"Sure, Mom. I'll try and get there early."

* * *

He couldn't help but smirk to himself as he armed the alarm on his car and tucked the keys in his pocket. He'd timed it perfectly. Three minutes before people would start herding toward their seats and the meal would be served. He could handle three minutes with his mother's latest pick—as long as she wasn't anything like the last one.

That had been a disaster and a half. Some red-haired thing studying psychology. In the first five minutes of talking to her she asked him if he was OCD and tried to recommend he see her professor for help with his, as she called it, 'workaholic tendencies.' Oh, and she had _freckles_.

_Anything_ would be better than that.

"There you are, Zuko. Just in time," though the tightness to his mother's smile meant she was onto him.

"I got here early," he said smugly, trying to wipe the smirk off his face. It didn't quite seem appropriate anymore.

Ursa just waved away his nonchalance, other hand on his arm when she circled to his side to scan the crowd. "Since I wasn't entirely sure you'd grace us with your presence, I sent Katara to help some of the guests find their seats. Let me see if I can find her."

He didn't even have time to tell his mother not to bother her little busybee helper before she was already pointing to a young lady across the crowd. The woman's back was to them, so all he could see was a mane of wavy brown hair and the simple silver clasp that kept half of it at bay. Much to his chagrin, Ursa practically hopped up and down to wave the newest prospect over.

But when she turned around, all bets were off.

Bright blue eyes, a gorgeous smile, slender neck, and a burgundy satin dress that hugged her figure in all the right places to make her look elegant _and_ stunning. She was young but not too young, petite, but the stilettos she wore did wonders for her legs. As much as he appreciated a fine pair of those, his eye wandered much more north… and it looked good up top, too.

Just how long it took the young woman to cross the room he never knew, because he was just staring the whole time. Could his mother really have picked such a… winner?

"Katara, I'd love for you to meet my son, Zuko. Zuko, this is Katara."

Ignoring his mother's look that pointedly told him to _behave_, he offered a hand with a semi-genuine smile. "A pleasure."

"No, the pleasure's mine," Katara bubbled as she gave the extended palm a shake. "Your mother's told me so much about you. All good things, of course."

"Of course," he echoed, fully intent on giving his mother a look of his own—only to find she'd discreetly disappeared into the oncoming crowd. "So… you care about—" he searched the nearest sign to gauge the 'cause' all the donations would be applied to, then mentally kicked himself, "—putting a stop to drunk driving?"

Smooth, Zuko. Real smooth.

He tried to save face. It wasn't his fault, after all, but his mother's for not giving him any information to work with going in. "Sorry, my mom just didn't—"

"Don't worry about it," she said with that same smile. Up close, he could see her lipstick was a charming shade to match her dress, and it suited her well. He'd always liked red. "I know your mother expects you to ask me to dinner or drop down on one knee or—I don't even know," she finished with a laugh and a shake of her head. "Let's just chat for a few minutes and I'll be out of your hair. You can say you tried and I'll tell her that, while you're polite and charming, you're not my type."

His smile froze. First of all, she was the first girl in awhile to catch on to his mother's scheme, and he appreciated that kind of intelligence in a woman. Second, she was even more beautiful up close, and her voice was pleasant and polished, but sincere, certainly a change in his dog-eat-dog business world.

But mostly, he just panicked that he might not actually be her type. "Am I your type?" jumped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

The sudden blush on her face gave her away. It was cute, as was the way her gaze darted to one side before coming back to him above a slightly more bashful smile. "I don't know. I haven't gotten to know you yet."

"Maybe we should," he suggested on a whim. Perhaps it was the businessman in him. He was unable to let such a promising opportunity go to waste. "Get to know each other, I mean. Over that dinner you mentioned."

She frowned, and for a long moment he was sure she was going to refuse. The expression translated more toward perplexity, however, and after another moment of waiting with bated breath, she countered, "Coffee, not dinner. Next Tuesday? My office is downtown and I know this great place on 42nd."

"Café Luna? I know the place."

"Great. What time's good for you?"

He hesitated. His 'workaholic tendencies' usually had him at the office at the crack of dawn, but telling a pretty girl to meet him at five-thirty in the a.m. probably wouldn't bode very well. "Seven?" His secretary might call missing persons but he'd get a good cup of coffee and maybe a chance at getting a handle on this girl.

"Perfect. See you then."

Confident, efficient, Katara was getting more and more intriguing by the minute. For the rest of the night he could barely take his eyes off her and he just hoped beyond hope she didn't notice. She didn't seem to; for the three hours spent listening to everything from testimony to statistics and the final plea for donations, their eyes only met across the crowd once.

And she'd smiled.

It gave him some hope. He wasn't really looking for anything serious, but she seemed like she might be fun—in bed, if nothing else. He was still male, after all.

Tuesday couldn't come fast enough.


	2. Espresso Yourself

**A/N: **Really, I don't use author's notes this often. I just wanted to say thank you so very much for all the response. I'm so glad others are enjoying this—not just me! I read every single review, and I do reply if you have any questions/concerns/etc. Lay them on me! 3

In the meantime, enjoy. :)

* * *

_Espresso Yourself_

Being late to a first date – even if it was just coffee – was an unforgivable offense.

Accordingly, Katara had set her alarm clock a full hour earlier than usual to ensure she'd be out the door with plenty of time. It also gave her some room for extra primping, from ironing the cream cap-sleeved blouse she'd wear under her navy suit to adding that extra spritz of body spray when she stepped out of the shower. She even had a chance to tuck her papers neatly into her soft-sided briefcase rather than haphazardly stuffing them in like she did most mornings.

Luck was on her side. She made it downtown in record time, and had a chance to snag one of the best parking spots by her office. It was just a quick walk to the coffee shop from there anyway, and then she wouldn't have to battle the early morning traffic on her way back. It was perfect.

The day was turning out better than expected and the date hadn't even started yet.

Then it all took a sudden turn when there, in the window of the coffeeshop, sat Zuko. Had he really beaten her? She was thirty minutes early!

But there he was, dressed in a sharp suit with his jacket slung across the back of his chair and his laptop open in front of him. He suspiciously lacked a cup of coffee anywhere on his chosen table; he probably hoped to close up at first sight of her and pretend he hadn't been waiting for—well, for however long he'd been waiting.

At least she could get the drop on him in that respect, as he didn't even glance up when she walked across the storefront to the door. The jingle of the bell did garner his attention, however, and the slight flush at his collar was testament enough he'd been caught red-handed.

"Hi," she said, willing to let his punctuality – extreme as it was – slide. She liked a man who valued his time. "If you wanted to start the morning earlier, you could have let me know."

"Hey," he managed, sweeping the newspaper off the table into the open briefcase on the empty chair at the table and closing up his laptop. "Didn't want you thinking I never sleep." He noticeably didn't mention whether that was actually a misconception or the truth.

For what it was worth, she was willing to take it in stride. When that seat was cleared, she set her own bag beside it, opting to leave her jacket on when she slid into place. "Of course you never sleep. You probably live off of coffee like I do, right? Your mom told me a bit about your job."

Ursa had filled her in about Ozai's corporation and Zuko's part in it. Ping-ponging from sales, to marketing, to finally find his niche in research and development, apparently he'd been all-out _bad_ at some of the other jobs he'd tried. Katara figured she just wouldn't divulge how much the matriarch of the family had told her about his climb of the career ladder.

"I have a cup or two in the morning, but what I really drink is tea."

"Tea?" Surprising. Then again, it had been pretty surprising to meet him for the first time. She had preconceptions – assumptions – especially about a young man who needed his mother's intervention in finding a 'nice girl.' Now, sitting there in that crisp white shirt and his tie snug against his neck, he looked just as handsome as he had in his three-piece suit. The only thing that would be better was if that necktie hung loose and his collar was unbuttoned…

What on earth was she _thinking_? Clearly, something had to be wrong with him if he couldn't get a date. She just had to figure out what it was—girlish fantasies aside.

"Blame my uncle. He sort of took me under his wing when I was younger, and he's a tea fanatic. Owns a shop over on the West Side." He gave her a skeptical look as though he couldn't believe his mom hadn't filled her in on the full family history before nodding toward the register. "Know what you want? I'm buying."

Well, at least he was a gentleman. "I can cover mine, but if you want to order it…" She fished through her purse for a spare five-dollar bill and handed it over to him with a smile. "An iced Americano, double shot, please."

He left for the register and she had to quell the urge to peek in his briefcase while his back was turned. From her experience, you could tell a lot about a person by what they carried with them. His laptop already meant he was serious about what he did, probably took his work home with him, and clearly had some technological savvy. Having a good work ethic was definitely a step up from some of the guys she'd been coerced into dating over the years.

"Wasn't sure what size you usually got," his voice interrupted her thoughts, drawing her focus to the large cup he extended. "Figured you'd want the biggest they had."

Usually she did, but on a budget of five dollars, even she knew it wouldn't cover that much joe. As if reading her thoughts – or her hesitation – he added a smug, "I covered the difference so don't worry about it."

"Thanks." She already had her purse on the table again, cup set aside while she rifled through it. "I can pay you back—"

"I said don't worry about it," he repeated with that same smirk on his face. "If you really want to pay me back, you can have dinner with me this Saturday."

He was _bold_. She almost choked on her first sip of coffee. "You're kidding, right?"

He didn't look like he was kidding.

"I don't even know anything about you," she said, the words trailing off in a nervous laugh. Nevermind that his mother had given her virtually his entire life's story, she wasn't sure whether his persistence was inspiring or… creepy.

"There's not that much to know. My life's pretty routine. My mom thinks that needs to change. Sometimes I agree with her."

"Sometimes?" That at least earned a genuine hint of amusement.

He shrugged, and now there was most definitely an endearing quality to the near-boyish lilt of his smile. "Other days I kind of like being on my own. There's no one to please but myself."

And that earned a genuine smile. "Yeah, I know how that is."

"So we're on for dinner?" He must have sensed her reluctance – again – because he pushed, "It's just dinner."

"Sure," she ceded. After all, she had dinner with her colleagues all the time, male and female alike. She had to shmooze the opposing counsel from time to time, or buy her second chair a round of drinks when they won a case. This could just be fun.

"Great." His smile widened a bit, and she could see he really was handsome, in spite of that scar. She wanted to ask about it more than anything, but held herself in check. It just wouldn't be appropriate.

That reverie almost caused her to miss out on his next question, asking her what she liked to eat. "Oh, so now you're actually interested in finding something out about me?"

Let him chew on that for awhile. It must have thrown him for a loop because he wore a hint of that same flush on his neck that he had when she caught him there so early, but he recovered. "I'm interested in finding out a lot about you."

It was her turn to blush. Hopefully prettily, and hopefully her reply was witty enough, "But what, you're pacing yourself?"

Again, that smirk came into play. "Something like that."

Something about the way his gaze dropped down and away was reminiscent of their first meeting. She'd noticed how his focus seemed to hover _under_ her chin, and if that's what he meant by 'pacing' himself… She just wondered how deep that chivalrous façade really went.

There was only one way to find out. He was handsome, successful, and a loving son, from what his mother had told her. Those were enough qualities to warrant something as innocent as dinner. "Well, I love Mexican food."

She actually thought she saw his nose wrinkle for a brief second—but she must have been imagining it. "I can get us reservations at Sinaloa."

Her jaw just about dropped to the table. Sinaloa was the premier Mexican restaurant in the city, with a reservation waiting list a mile long. The food also cost around thirty bucks a plate, but considering the cut of his suit and the make of his computer, she highly doubted money was remotely an issue for him.

After gaping like a fish out of water for a few very awkward moments, she managed a tight, "Are you sure?"

By that point, she half-wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face. The other half of her happened to find it roguishly charming. "Yeah. If you want Mexican, there's no place better."

"I don't know…"

Every instinct but one was telling her this was a bad idea. Letting a guy chat her up over coffee was one thing; taking her out to the fanciest place in town by candlelight and all that jazz was another entirely.

The one that wasn't telling her to cut her losses and run kept reminding her how attractive he was.

"Come on. What would it hurt?" A beat, and he added a more devilish, "If you say no, I'll let you explain to my mother why."

Even she couldn't break that sweet woman's heart. "Okay, okay."

"Here," he told her, retrieving a card from his pocket and a pen from the other. Flipping the first over, he scribbled a number on the back before sliding it across the table. "That's my cell. Just call if you need to cancel… or whatever."

She took the card, flipping it back over to glance at the front. Typical black text, red accent, strong but plain. Maybe his life was as boring as he tried to say it was. "Sounds good."

"Alright. Like I said, if you need anything, or, you know, whatever, just give me a call." His confidence seemed to be failing, but cute as it was, he was saved by the buzzing of a phone from his pocket. Pulling it out was all it took for him to tell her hastily, "I gotta jet. I'll, uh, see you on Saturday?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the coffee." The least she could do was leave him with a warmer smile.

He actually returned it, too. Quickly tugging on his jacket and grabbing his briefcase, she watched him all the way out the door and onto the street outside. She had to be crazy for agreeing to any of this, but she just couldn't help herself.

It was only after he was long gone that she realized they'd never picked a dinner time.


	3. Across the Border

_Across the Border_

When the strange number had blinked up on his cell phone that Tuesday afternoon, he had half a mind to ignore it.

In retrospect, he wished he had. That would have meant he could call her back, or have more of a reason to prolong the conversation. She sounded so cute on the phone that he realized he didn't quite mind having her voice chirping in his ear.

"I promise I'm not a stalker, but we forgot to set a time for dinner…"

He should have apologized. He should have allowed her to choose the hour. Instead, in his usual shoot-himself-in-the-foot way, he simply asked if eight was fine and upon her agreement, concluded the call.

Talk about _stupid_.

For the rest of the week he tried to come up with a reason to call her. It frustrated him to no end that he might have already blown it, but also that he'd even remotely been scared of her backing out. Why did it matter if she backed out? They weren't really dating or anything—yet.

Maybe he needed to ask Uncle for some advice—but no, he refused to do that. It was only the (real) first date. If he couldn't make it that far on his own, he was just as hopeless as Katara probably thought he was.

His mother was right, he didn't have much experience with nice girls. The women who agreed to a second date were usually trying to climb the corporate ladder or simply enjoyed the nice payday of fine dinner and a sweet ride in his Lexus. It didn't matter what he said, how he dressed, or where they went. And truthfully, most of the time, he didn't mind. It wasn't like he didn't get anything out of it at the end of the night.

But lately that kind of lifestyle was getting stale. As much as some part of him hated to admit it, Katara was more than just another pretty girl to chase into bed. She was the first one in awhile who seemed not to care about who he was or where – or what – he'd come from.

He just had to figure out if she was too good to be true.

* * *

"So how did my mom rope you into that dinner, anyway?"

The evening had been going a lot more smoothly than he'd expected. She was gorgeous, of course, and somehow he'd managed through the brief exchange about their respective work weeks and the chit-chat about menu choices. He hated Mexican food, but that had just given him the perfect opportunity to defer to her expertise.

Now, over a glass of wine, she smiled and shook her head. "She didn't have to rope me into anything. I was a volunteer for the committee. After hearing my story, she sort of took me under her wing."

"Your story?"

When she initially did nothing more than smile, he mentally kicked himself. They were just getting to know each other, he should have told her she didn't have to tell him her life's story if she didn't feel like it. "Sorry, I—"

She cut him off with another quick shake of her head. "No, it's fine. I don't mind talking about it, now. See, my mom was killed in a car accident by a drunk driver. So… yeah, I really do care about putting a stop to drunk driving."

He choked out a mixture between a cough and a laugh, but could already feel that tell-tale flush creeping up his neck. That had definitely not been his shining moment, and that she'd distinctly remembered it… _Ouch_.

"I was really angry at first. I was young, I didn't really understand. But that's when I decided I wanted to be a lawyer. I actually was dead-set on being a prosecutor when I first started."

Honestly, he knew virtually nothing about the justice system except what he saw on television. If it was anything like that – which he knew it wasn't, but it had to be pretty close – then she was definitely confident and articulate enough to make a decent prosecutor. That just left the question, "What changed your mind?"

"I got into it and saw how cutthroat it really is out there. Half the time, prosecutors want to win their case whether or not the defendant is even guilty. That seemed just as criminal to me as what they were prosecuting."

"So now you're in defense…" He'd gotten that much from his mother, after a lot of hassling following that charity event.

She laughed and lifted her wine glass for another sip. "Now I'm in defense," she echoed a moment later, shoulders rolling in something of a shrug. "I told myself I'd never defend a guilty person. You know, when I first started. But life isn't that easy. It's hard making the tough choices, but someone has to do it."

"Yeah." He took a drink from his own glass. "I'm sure plenty of people appreciate what you do."

"Have you seen my paycheck?" she said with another laugh. "I don't do it for that. I don't know, I guess I just feel like I'm making some kind of difference, even if it's a small one." A moment passed, and she tossed him another smile, tone significantly breezier. "What about you? Your mother didn't really tell me exactly what you do in the company."

He dreaded talking about work. It was boring, first of all, and a complete turn-off. Most women didn't find pencil-pushing and paperwork very attractive.

But he couldn't very well lie—and there was no telling whether she was telling the whole truth. Ursa might have completely filled her in and this was some kind of test of his honesty. With a quick exhale, he stated bluntly, "Basically, I conduct focus groups and surveys to research what's selling and what's not."

"Like those people who try and stop me in the mall asking for my opinion?"

"_No_," he replied. "It's a little more sophisticated than that."

"What, like on _The Apprentice_?" He was about to facepalm. She must have sensed it, because she added, rather pertly, "Hey, don't try and pretend that when you found out I was an attorney you didn't think about what you'd seen on TV."

Okay, so she had him there. With another sigh, he tugged at his collar and ventured, "It's more like… I get a list of questions on my desk, either for an account or in anticipation of pitching to a new customer. It's my job to answer those questions. Then I put together the data and draw the most favorable conclusions."

"So your job really is boring, huh?"

At least she said it with a smile. And thankfully their food was served so he could brush it off with a smug, "It is. You probably shouldn't make me talk about it anymore or we'll both fall asleep."

"I just have one more question," she told him, picking up her fork and letting it hover, poised, above her dish. "If your job's so boring, is it really what you want to be doing the rest of your life?"

Well, he had to give her credit. She phrased the typical 'where do you see yourself in five years' question well enough that he wasn't running at the suspicion that she wanted four kids before she turned thirty.

Unfortunately, it didn't really make the question any more _comfortable_.

"It's just a job," he finally said, waving his own fork before spearing a piece of chicken he'd sliced off the bone. "It pays the bills. I've never seriously thought about doing anything _else_, so…" He trailed off in a shrug.

It was a bit of a fib. Once upon a time he'd always dreamed of owning his own business, out of the shadow of his father and sister. Iroh had tried to encourage him, but when it all came down to it, Zuko had nothing to market. He wasn't an inventor, and the only reason he had any money to be an investor was because of that same-said job he hated. It was already a no-win situation.

Something on her face said she suspected there was more to the story, but she was gracious enough to leave it at that. That was definitely earning her brownie points in his book. Given his history, he didn't need people pushing or he'd shut them out.

At least he could admit it.

The meal passed in more polite but genuine conversation. She shared about her family, how her father and brother were over-protective even before she went 'away' for college. Apparently her grandmother owned a bed-and-breakfast past the suburbs and had always expected Katara to take over one day. Suddenly, when she said she understood about expectation – especially from family – he believed her.

He hinted at the sibling rivalry with his sister, and how he was much closer with his mother and uncle than his father. They didn't speak about the accident that left him scarred, and she was nice enough not to ask why he needed his _mom_ to set him up on a date. He appreciated that even more.

It was only at the end, after he offered to walk her to her car, that she threw him for a real loop. "Why did you take me out for Mexican if you don't like it?"

Again, he felt himself turning red. "I never said I didn't like it," was a poor excuse, but the best he could come up with.

"You didn't have to," she said, and he wasn't quite sure he liked how _I caught you_ that grin looked on her face, even if it did make her prettier in the lamplight. "You wrinkled your nose when I first told you over coffee, and tonight you let me suggest chicken. Anyone who really likes Mexican food would never order straight chicken."

Damn it, he'd blown it after all. "Well, you said you liked it—"

"I know. Which is why I think next time, we should go somewhere you like."

He was floored. He hardly dared voice a significantly raspier, "Next time?"

But then she flashed him another glimpse of that smile, and he felt the vice grip in his chest loosen—slightly. "Yes. I enjoyed myself enough to warrant a next time, didn't you?"

And he realized he had.

She was smart, sexy, and sympathetic. She was good at conversation when he wasn't, although with her it came a lot easier than it had on past (failed) attempts at dating. She was honest, and seemed genuine and believable. She seemed to understand, and more than anything, it had been a really long time since someone even tried to understand _him_—and not just how many figures he brought home every month.

"Yeah," he said, and the smile behind it was real. "I did."


	4. Undressed for Success

_Undressed for Success_

"Oh, I don't know, Suki. How am I even supposed to answer that?"

The grocery cart clanked a little as her sister-in-law pushed it down the aisle. "Start with the basics. Is he cute? Okay, stupid question, of course he is. So maybe not the basic basics. –Honey, don't grab that, it's not ours." Katara's niece, four-year-old Sesi, had a serious case of 'grabbyhands.'

"Okay, okay. Well, he's polite. Handsome. A businessman, so he's professional, and successful. Not really a big talker, but I don't think he's shy, it's just… I don't know, it's hard to explain. You'll just have to meet him."

"So it's okay if I swing by later when he's supposed to pick you up so I can get introduced?"

Katara panicked. "Nooooo way. I'm not bringing him to meet the family until I'm really sure about him. I expect you not to tell Sokka either."

Suki rolled her eyes, swatting Sesi's hand as she reached for a box of cereal while they were parked in front of the Cheerios. "I won't tell him, because you should. And soon. You've been keeping this under wraps for awhile now, don't deny it."

"Look, I don't even know… you know, what this _is_ yet. We've gone on a couple dates—"

"How many?"

"—okay, _four_ dates, if you count coffee. Tonight will be five."

For his choice, Zuko had taken her to a sleek sushi bar. They had a private table toward the back, and the way the staff behaved clued her in that he was a regular there. Some of the waitresses even recognized him well enough to flirt right in front of her, and while she suffered a pang of jealousy he'd capably driven them off. She had to admit the way his hand hovered at the small of her back on their way out had given her a small sense of vindication.

Date number four had been the movies. After some good-natured ribbing about the selection at the marquee and the back and forth of deciding on an acceptable choice between the two of them – romance was out for him and she wasn't in the mood for non-stop action – they settled on a dark comedy. It was pretty good for what it was, even if she was grimacing more than laughing by the end, but they could both agree they'd seen better. It was the company that made it worth it—and the way his hand fell conspicuously across her knee sometime during the second half, and she realized she liked it there.

But she wasn't about to tell Suki _that_.

"Five? And you're just telling me about him _now_? –Sesi, _stop it_, or we won't get any frozen yogurt later." With the discipline finally sinking in on the squirming little one, Suki sent her a sly smile. "So you really like him, huh?"

She sputtered just a little, "Well, of course I _like_ him." She wouldn't have gone on four dates if she hadn't liked him. It had been curiosity at first, a bit of Ursa's urging, and the thrill of the challenge of getting to know the guy. But lately, it had been just a bit more than that. He was easy to talk to, easy to relate to, easy to relax with. She needed that in the stress of her fast-paced professional world.

They were on the dairy aisle, and finally Katara tucked something into the shopping basket over her arm: a ball of mozzarella. She fancied spaghetti for dinner before Zuko would arrive. This date was a lot more casual than the others, just a walk in the park after most of the crowds would be gone. She was looking forward to a laidback chance to talk.

"So…" and her focus swiveled back to Suki and that devilish smirk the woman wore. This wasn't about to be good. "Have you slept with him?"

"_No_!" she squeaked, and several other heads turned their way for a moment before she quieted down. "Unlike _some_ people, I don't jump into bed with a guy just because he's good-looking."

"But he's not just good-looking, he's well-mannered and you like him…" The last words trailed off in a near sing-songy jest, though Suki dropped the hook when Katara didn't take the bait. "Alright, fine. Have you even kissed him?"

"No." That one prompted a blush, and her looking away, pretending to peruse the array of deli meat spread out in front of them. "I'm just… er, seeing what happens, I guess. It's actually a nice luxury." And with a pointed look toward her sister-in-law, she added, "No pressure, unlike usual."

"Fine, fine," Suki threw her hands up. "I'll lay off, as long as you promise me— _Sesi_!"

But it was too late. The girl brought the entire endcap display down with a single tug of the middle shelf. When the attention of the entire market dropped down on their heads, greeted by two very nervous smiles and Sesi's laughter, Katara knew it was going to be a long day.

* * *

The spill at the store had definitely cramped her style. Her entire day from start to finish had been pretty meticulously plotted, time slots allotted for crucial things like a shower, cooking dinner… Arriving back home almost an hour late had really put a wrench in her plans.

She barely managed to slurp down some spaghetti in-between ironing the blouse she wanted to wear that evening and hopping into the shower. In fact, she didn't even bother putting the leftovers away before she scrambled into the lukewarm water, scrubbing down and climbing out—just in time to hear a knock on the door.

_Crap_. Was it really that late?

She tip-toed toward the front door, peeking out the peephole. It was him, and he looked… well, _ready_. Crap, crap, crap. What was she supposed to do? She was naked underneath that fluffy terrycloth robe and her hair was still wrapped in a towel on her head. If she was running just a few minutes late she could have asked him to wait, but she was running way behind.

But she had a very, very strict rule about inviting guys in. Once they were in there were expectations, usually ones that involved them not wanting to leave again until morning. And they didn't have any set plans; were there a reservation to make or a movie to catch it would have been easy enough to keep things on track.

Pressed against the wall there, she pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to think. If she was legitimately busy getting ready, he could just sit on the couch, right? Or she could invite him to help himself to some spaghetti, or—

Whatever. There was no way she could leave the poor guy out in the hall for another twenty minutes.

So with a tight smile pasted on her face she turned and opened the door, peeking out with that towel in full display. "Sorry, I've, uh, had quite a day. You can come in, though." The door swung open further to allow him room and still half-hide her robed figure from his sight. "I'm almost ready just, um, give me another couple minutes. Make yourself at home. Er, did you want some dinner? There are leftovers on the stove."

"No thanks, I already ate," he said, giving her what looked like a onceover after he stepped inside and stood there, awkwardly. As if an afterthought, he added, "Smells good, though."

"Uh, thanks. The couch is over there, if you want to take a seat. I have cable if you wanted to flip something on while you wait. Sorry again."

And without waiting for a reply she darted back into the bathroom and locked the door. All she needed was to breathe for a minute, collect herself, realize this wasn't the total end of the world. (Just close.) She could recover if she just combed out her hair and tied it back, snuck into the bedroom and dressed as quickly as possible…

She could do this.

All told, she was ready in a record fifteen minutes. The television had flipped on at some point while she was brushing her teeth, but at least she felt a whole lot better flashing him that same nervous smile when she finally emerged from the bedroom after hurriedly pulling on her clothes. A quick look in the mirror told her still looked halfway decent, at least.

"I'm just going to put the leftovers away, if you don't mind. Then we can be on our way." _Please, please, please don't let him beg for a reason to stay._

But surprise, he actually offered an amiable, "Sounds good," and even a chivalrous, "Don't forget your coat. It's cold out there."

That was the kind of sweetness she wished Suki could see, and she couldn't help the more genuine smile little smile it brought to her lips. "Thanks. I'll just be a minute. Did you want to meet me downstairs?"

He was already getting up from the couch, remote switching the set off before he tossed it back against the lumpy pillows. "Sure. See you in a few."

* * *

"Honestly, I couldn't wait to get out of that place."

She scoffed, but there was a laugh behind it as well. "What do you mean? You didn't have to come in."

They'd spent the better part of their walk sharing about their childhoods. How living in the 'country' made her appreciate a patch of grass more than most city-dwellers, and how he'd rarely ever gone to a park and never to a playground, but his family did vacation every summer on the lake before he and his sister got old enough to make their own plans. It was interesting discovering just how different their lives had been before they both entered the more corporate world.

His hand was warm around hers the entire time. She was keenly aware of it, and how their shoulders occasionally brushed when the path began to wind or another passerby warranted half. On a whim, she'd tested the waters by mentioning that in her experience most guys didn't choose walks in the park over a chance to stake out a girl's place… and he'd confessed that.

"It's not that it was bad, it was just… small. I started feeling claustrophobic there—"

"Oh, it was not _that_ small," she laughed again, giving his arm a shove with her free hand.

"Maybe not, but it proves you don't make enough money."

She rolled her eyes. Finances had been a recurring theme – mostly in jest – in their latter conversations. He thought she was wasting her talent, but she also argued that she didn't want to be trapped in a loveless job for the sake of a bigger paycheck. They were at a stand-off.

"Life's about more than money, Zuko," she said, a bit more sternly than intended. His lecture was going to fall on deaf ears.

But he was full of surprises that evening. Instead of the usual launch into how she could be moving up the ladder or saving for a house or whatever he wanted to say, he had a simple, "I know that. But growing up with having plenty, I just don't understand someone who doesn't even want any."

"Hey, I never said I don't want any," she pointed out, but her tone had softened significantly. What he said could have sounded judgmental – like it had in the past – but this time, he just sounded… perplexed. "I just don't need more than enough."

"You've said that." And by the way he seemed to accept it for what it was, it seemed he believed her.

They continued for a few paces but a moment later he came to a full stop, shifting to face her slightly when he added quietly, "You're just not like any girl I've met in a really long time."

"Hopefully that's a good thing." But she wasn't so sure. She'd never seen him so serious before.

"It is. It's a really good thing."

They stood there, awkwardly, for another long minute. She heard the crickets chirping, and the shadows move as a car drove by on the street several yards away. Someone had to say _something_, and she finally settled on an overdue mention that he wasn't like any guy she'd met.

Before she had a chance to say anything, he kissed her.

It was awkward, it was abrupt. She wasn't quite facing him, and he had to stoop. But after the initial shock wore off, it was sweet, and it was gentle. He tasted like just a hint of orange, courtesy of his favorite tea, and his lips were soft. She only hoped hers were the same.

He pulled away but not so far that his breath didn't still tickle her cheek. She knew – her heart was pounding it – that this was the split-second where they pushed forward or backed off. More than anything she didn't want him to lose his nerve as he had so many times in the past.

So she pushed. Head tilted, feet shuffling just a half-step forward, it meant that the next attempt went much smoother once her mouth connected with his—and it was stronger. She wasn't afraid of letting him know that she wanted to kiss him, that she _liked_ kissing him. Funny how something she'd only briefly fantasized about now and then was so powerfully real after only a moment.

The second lasted twice as long as the first, but he was still the one who broke it off. Yet this time he smiled, slightly, hesitantly, so she could barely recognize it, but she did. She knew him well enough by then to see even that subtle flicker.

And then without another word he stepped back and continued along the path, palm clasped more firmly around hers. That silence began to creep in again, but this time she didn't find it nearly as unnerving.

On the contrary, it was almost companionable.


	5. The Season

**A/N: **Just want to say how much I appreciate all of you readers! I apologize for the brevity of this chapter, but, well, it's a necessary evil. You'll see what I mean as you read.

And on another note, in case you missed it, Luckeh made me fanart for this story! [Insert lots of squee'ing here.] You can find the link on my profile. Check it out! :)

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* * *

(Lack of) Reason for the Season_

Zuko liked lunch. Lunch was routine. They went to the same deli and sat at the same table on every Tuesday and Thursday like clockwork. He was, if nothing else, a creature of habit.

"We should go Christmas shopping this weekend."

She said it casually as she took another bite of her tuna salad sandwich, whereas he almost choked. The last time he went anywhere near a store during the holiday season was to have his favorite suit tailored after it lost a button. He even mail-ordered his mother's gift every year—a new piece of Waterford crystal to add to her collection.

"I don't know. I don't usually—"

"What, go shopping for your family? Your friends?"

"Yeah, that." Suddenly, his grilled pastrami wasn't half as appetizing.

"Well, maybe you should start. I can give you a hand."

He couldn't resist that smile.

He couldn't resist the way that smile looked so damnably kissable when her lips were that much pinker after eating her lunch.

But he still wasn't sold. "I don't know if it's a good idea—"

"Why? Do you have any other plans this weekend?" she pushed.

Any plans he had involved the latest rental from Netflix and her couch. And a lot of kissing away that smile she was still wearing after a quick dab of her napkin across her mouth. In other words…

"Not really…" He could already tell he was getting roped into this whether he liked it or not.

"Great! We'll go Sunday. That way there won't be as much of a crowd." She already had her planner in her hand and that pen marking in thick black ink that they were on for mall-walking that weekend.

Sometimes her persistence was the bane of his existence.

* * *

It was better than expected.

She was right, between the lull of lunch and dinner not too many people wandering through and those that were did so with purpose, clearly on a mission for something in particular and not stopping to think twice. The sparkle and snowflake covering every single post and storefront left something to be desired, but it was worth suffering for how happy it seemed to make Katara. She wore a mile-wide grin even as she turned him into a pack mule.

There were presents for her grandmother, her father, her brother and his wife and their daughter. She insisted on buying something for his mother and something "polite" for his father and sister – her word, not his – and had finally succeeded in dragging him into the card shop for a turn through the aisles.

"We have to get your employees at least a card to say you appreciate them," she told him, and she didn't bother listening to any of his explanations about how his secretary would do that _for_ him every year.

To him, it was a monumental waste of time. He was convinced that the staff in his department just threw the cards they received every year through the paper shredder the first chance they got. There was a distinct lack of 'holiday spirit' on his floor of the building.

But again, that information didn't seem to faze his girlfriend. "Maybe it's because you haven't led by example," was her reasoning, as she purchased tinsel and holly and several Christmas knick-knacks that were apparently supposed to be placed around his office come Monday. She even got a wreath and some mistletoe, though the latter came with a disclaimer: "You don't put this anywhere _you_ go, okay?"

Now, she had him picking through the vast array of holiday cards so gaudily on display. For what it was worth, she was a more-than-willing helper, every so often passing one his way with the obligatory assessment, "This one's nice."

He flipped the latest 'pick' over and immediately snapped it back shut. "It talks about God." That was a big fat _no_.

As he searched for the proper hole among the rest to stuff it back into place, she stopped him by replying tersely, "So? There's nothing wrong with that."

Religion. It was a touchy subject on just about any level, and they'd only discussed it in passing. He knew her family occasionally attended some little Baptist church near her grandmother's inn, but Katara hadn't gone anywhere seriously for years. It had allowed them the luxury of skipping over the stickier details in favor of enjoying that neither of them was going to drag the other to a congregation Sunday morning.

He hoped to continue that dismissal now. "People would just think I'm crazy. They're already going to think I'm crazy enough with all of this holiday stuff."

"What's crazy about it?" Unfortunately, he couldn't really tell if she meant the whole God thing or the 'Christmas spirit' she was trying to force on him.

"Uh…"

"I was raised with a very healthy respect for whatever Higher Power might be out there," she continued, and now he could tell she was offended. The lift of her chin, the line of her mouth, it all spoke irritation and a certain veiled haughtiness. It might have been marginally attractive if it wasn't directed at him. "Belief doesn't automatically mean blind devotion."

"Right," he was quick to agree. No way he wanted to get on the bad side of… whatever that was now staring him down. "But this is just a _Christmas card_, Katara. And if you're already making me buy them, I'm going to buy one that doesn't promote any of that religious—" He cut himself short of saying 'mumbo-jumbo' and opted for the more civil, "—stuff."

"Oh, so I'm _making_ you buy cards now?"

"Yes!" he snapped.

It only took a split-second for the realization to set in that he was in deep trouble. _Deep_ trouble. Her eyes were practically glittering now, and it wasn't in that adorable dreamy way he saw after he'd kissed her long enough to take her breath away.

Time to backpedal. "I mean—"

"I know what you mean, Zuko," she snapped right back, yanking that card from his hands and shoving it back in with the rest. "You made it perfectly clear, believe me. You're only doing any of this because of me."

"Exactly!" he jumped in, reaching for her hand as it retreated from the cards. He tried to capture it in his own, but she pulled it free. Nevertheless, "I'm doing this because of you. _For_ you. Because I like making you happy."

"Well, forget it." She was already gathering all of those bags, looping them over her arms and somehow managing to glare at him all the while. "And forget taking me home. I'll get a cab."

"Katara, don't be like this. _Please_." People were staring.

But she didn't even send him a backward glance as she huffed out.

* * *

After a week of lonely lunches and vegging in front of his television with Chinese takeout and Netflix, he knew he had to take drastic measures. She wouldn't return any of his calls, and any attempts he'd made to swing by her place had resulted in her pretending she wasn't home. He only had one trick up his sleeve.

It just _had_ to work.


	6. Family: The Gift That Keeps on Giving

**A/N: **Another shorter one, but I reeeeally wanted the next chapter to be family from Zuko's perspective, so I nipped this one in the bud. Bear with me, folks!

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* * *

Family: The Gift That Keeps on Giving_

Friday rolled around and while any normal person would have been sick of binging on Ben & Jerry's for the last five days, Katara still brought a quart with her for 'lunch' at work.

She wasn't looking forward to her first weekend without the company of her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend? Whatever.

After a lonely week, she had to admit, she was feeling guilty for possibly maybe slightly overreacting at the mall. But her pride wouldn't allow her to apologize. That would mean admitting she was wrong—and frankly, she hadn't done anything _wrong_.

So Ben & Jerry's it was. At least her female coworkers could commiserate, and the break room turned into a gossip fest of break-ups, make-ups, and guys that just weren't worth it. Unfortunately for Katara, it just made her realize how much Zuko didn't belong in that category.

She never expected him to walk through the door as she was cleaning up her briefs for the day. Between ignoring his calls and keeping the door locked when he came knocking, she figured she'd ruin any chances of him wanting to try anymore.

"What do you want?" she asked dryly, but instantly regretted it.

"To see you." He actually looked sheepish, and unsure of himself. He stood there awkwardly in front of her desk, and that wave of guilt struck again. "To say I'm sorry. More. Er, again."

"Okay." So far so good.

"And…" He glanced at the few others in the office still clearing up who were surreptitiously looking their way. She doubted he wanted to say whatever he had to say with an audience, but tough luck. "…I took your advice. Decorated my office. Everyone loved it. They want to have a holiday party now."

She was skeptical, but he read her like a book. "I took pictures on my phone. Y'know, to prove I did it."

"I believe you." And he was too cute not to forgive, if that's what he was really getting at like she suspected.

"Come to dinner with me," followed quickly, maybe because he could sense she wasn't mad—not really. "Tonight. Right now. I've missed you."

"Zuko, I can't—"

"Why? Katara, it was stupid. I was stupid. Please don't let that—"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand before it retreated to pinch the bridge of her nose. "It's not that I don't want to." On the contrary, "I missed you, too," could prove that with a barely-there whisper under her breath.

"Then what? Are you—" He looked comparatively pale all of the sudden. "Are you seeing someone else already?"

"_No_, of course not." She gave one of her coworkers – leaning in to listen just a bit more – a glare before she leaned in herself. "It's just… Sesi's Christmas recital is tonight, and my whole family will be there."

Relief flooded his face—until it was replaced by earnest. "Let me take you."

"What? You can't be serious. I just told you my whole family will be there." Not to mention, it would involve an hour of listening to out-of-tune little children half sing and half shout already overplayed Christmas songs.

"So? Maybe it's time I meet them." He must have sensed her hesitation, because he pushed again. That was always his penchant when he felt something wasn't completely in his control. "If that's what it takes to prove I'm serious about this, I want to do it."

It was either going to be a smashing success or an abysmal failure. But he was right; they'd been seeing each other for months and her excuses about 'taking it slow' and 'waiting and seeing' had started to wear on her family's nerves. It probably was time.

At least at a recital they wouldn't be able to kill him.

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed. "Pick me up at six-thirty. The program's at seven, and we can grab a late dinner afterward."

* * *

Traffic was killer. Everyone was trying to get out of the city for the weekend, but for the most part, it worked out perfectly. They arrived just in time to duck inside the theater for the first half.

Why, the only pitfall was that she was pretty certain Zuko saw the shotgun rack in the back of her father's truck—if the sudden clamminess of his grip was any indication.

At least they didn't have to undergo the third degree on their way in. Suki, courtesy of a call ahead, had saved two seats for them on the end of the row. Zuko didn't even have to awkwardly sit next to any of her family members for the program. Other than four sets of incredibly curious eyes on them when they slid into their seats, they were undisturbed through the first half.

Apparently little kids needed a bathroom break in the middle of an hour-long performance.

And apparently so did her brother, because no sooner had the lights come up than he was leaning across three laps to hiss, "Can I have a word with you? In _private_?"

"Sokka, we're not in grade school," she retorted, but to no avail. Eventually, she found herself tucked in the corridor between the restrooms with him pacing in front of her.

"I can't believe you brought him with you. To my daughter's Christmas program!"

"You can't believe I brought _him_? Or anyone?" It was no secret Sokka found her previously pitiable dating life a source of constant amusement.

"Yes. Both. This is supposed to be a time for family—"

"Oh, give me a break, Sokka. Even Gran-Gran brought a date." Mid-thirties, stubbled, and somewhat rugged, like most of the men from the farming community where they grew up.

"Uh, that's her new farmhand at the inn."

"And?"

She watched the implication set in, her brother's face twisting from irritation to abject horror before his palm smashed into his forehead and literally wiped the expression away. "Ugh, why did you have to give me that mental picture?"

"Look, Zuko is a great guy if you only get to know him—"

"Yeah, yeah, back to Zuko. Do you even know who he is?"

She narrowed her eyes. What had gotten into him, seriously? He was acting a little bit loony even for him. "What are you talking about? I'm dating him, aren't I?"

"Katara, I know you. When's the last time you read the newspaper? His family is _all over _the financial section pretty much every day!" Sokka leaned in, whispering the next comment, "They're filthy rich."

So that's what this was all about. No wonder he was acting like a conspiracy theorist. "So? That's not really a secret."

"You know how rich people are."

"Do I?" she countered, her own irritation flaring. "Last I checked I don't really hang out with a lot of wealthy people. Do _you_?"

Sokka was a security guard at the local zoo who moonlighted as an inventor. That was going to be a no, and she didn't even wait for him to reply. "Just give him a chance. He's different. Trust me."

"Whatever. You girls are crazy when you like a guy."

"Does that mean you won't be surprised if I invite him to Gran's for Christmas dinner?"

He rolled his eyes, shooting the double doors a glance when the music started again to signal everyone back to their seats. "Not like I think I can stop you. But," and he put a finger in her face to emphasize his point, "I'm gonna give him the low-down right off and you can't stop me. He hurts you and I kill him."

"Fine," she conceded, but she couldn't help her smile. After all, big brothers were good for some things.

They stole back into their seats and she was glad to find Zuko was none too worse for the wear. Gran-Gran wore a suspiciously cheshire smile, but when she snuck her hand into his, there wasn't the usual clamminess to prove he'd been through the wringer in her absence.

When he looked her way, she mouthed the words 'we're good' that prompted the slightest smile from him before her attention turned to the stage again.

And they were. (For now.)


	7. Family: The Gift That Never Stops Giving

**A/N: **Sorry this one was so long in the works. Holidays hit! Thanksgiving, and then getting ready for Christmas. xD Until then I should be back on track to update weekly if not a little more. :) Thank you for those of you faithful enough to keep reading and reviewing and watching in the meantime! Enjoy~

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* * *

Family: The Gift that Never Stops Giving  
_

* * *

"Well, if it isn't Little Zuzu, back from lunch with his latest toy."

He wasn't sure what irked him more, that Azula had made herself at home at his desk while he was out, or that she knew his Tuesday and Thursday schedule. While disinfecting his chair would set him back on the stack of paperwork he still had to complete before the end of the day, ultimately he decided that knowing she was _stalking_ him was just a little more disturbing.

"She's not a toy," he told her, mouth set in a grim line. He didn't bother saying anymore. She'd just twist it in her usual way.

"Nice hips, perky breasts, cute little smile? She looks like she'd be a _lot_ of fun… That's what toys are, right?" she said with her saccharin smile.

He was boiling. It was a wonder the briefcase still in his hand didn't light on fire. But he knew better than to get into a battle with his sister, so in the end, he settled for an expletive so low under his breath he didn't think she'd hear it.

She did. And she simply laughed. "Why would I do that when I have so many people willing to do the hard work for me?"

The very thought of his sister in bed with anyone made his stomach churn. He was sure he must have been green, if the increased cackling was any indication.

"Don't worry, Zuzu, I won't grace you with the details. Besides, you've always had a thing for monogamy. I knew it was only a matter of time before you went back to it. You're so predictable."

His temper was only rising further. He managed to ask, through tightly clenched teeth, "Why are you even here?"

That seemed to spur her into action. Arms overhead, she stretched like a cat before standing and leaving his chair in a spin when she circled around the desk. "What, not happy to see your only sister? And here I was trying to do you a favor."

"Cut to the chase." _And get out of my office._

"Fine. I just wanted to make sure your affairs are in order. Literally." That grin he knew all too well came out in full force, the one that had secretly haunted some of his worst nightmares as a child. "Mai's coming to the Christmas party this weekend. Hopefully your new plaything's up for an introduction."

* * *

He struggled. For three days he was in agony. She knew about his past but vaguely; he'd mentioned a serious relationship that lasted through college and she'd done the same. They had left it at that. No need to go drudging up the past, right?

His other option was to try and find a way to get out of the party—but that wasn't about to happen in a million years. Besides it being part of his penance for their fight in the card shop, it was Katara's first opportunity to meet his entire family, and his _mother_ was spear-heading the whole operation. They were not only expected to be there, but front and center and under whatever gaudy mistletoe they hung in the doorways.

So he was left dreading and worrying and panicking. Because he knew his sister, and while there was usually some slim chance in the universe he might avoid his ex at a crammed holiday party, Azula was not about to let him play the odds and win.

It was finally the day of, and he was in even more agony. A different kind of agony. Katara was leaning over the sink putting the last touches on her make-up and that velvet dress was riding up _just enough_ to remind him that it had been awhile.

A _long_ while.

"Let's ditch the party. We can stay in tonight." He was entitled one last-ditch effort, at least. And pitching against the back of her neck with his hands wrapped around her waist was his best chance of success.

"Zuko, you know how I feel about that," she laughed when she shimmied away, and oh, he was betting she knew just how alluring she looked with that impish grin on her face as she did it.

He did. He was _painfully_ aware of how she felt. She didn't want to go too fast, or rush into things, and believed in some perfect moment or some girly thing. And he suspected that once upon a time she'd probably made a mistake or two—like everyone had.

"Besides," she continued, turning back toward the mirror to put her earrings in. "You hate this place."

But he hated trying to remain celibate with such a gorgeous woman nearby all the time, too.

The closest he'd gotten to sating that ache was Thanksgiving Eve. They'd been watching movies at her place, and while he still hated the hodge-podge of mismatched furniture and claustrophobia-inducing spaces, her couch was good for a snuggle—and then some. He'd just gotten his hands under her shirt, worked that insufferable little hook of her bra at her back…

…Only for her phone to ring. It was her grandmother. Talk about a mood killer.

Thinking about it _now_ was a mood killer. He was beginning to wonder if he'd ever get that close again. Since their 'fight' he'd had to make do with some extended goodnight kiss sessions and that was it.

After tonight, he doubted he might even get those.

"Katara, I should mention—"

"Can it wait? We're already running late. We should get on the road if we want to beat the rush."

When she smiled like that, like nothing in the world would ever go wrong again, he couldn't refuse. "Sure. Let's get going."

* * *

Azula cornered them right away. Cornered probably wasn't the best word, as he'd have _preferred_ she keep them tucked out of sight as she wore that fake smile and lavished fake compliments on Katara's hair, dress, and shoes. Instead, she saw fit to link her arm through his girlfriend's and give her the 'tour.'

And, of course, that tour included introductions.

First stop: his father. Surprisingly, he didn't dread that meeting much. Ozai didn't believe in 'social' functions. The party was as much a business opportunity as a board room meeting. True to form, the patriarch barely even glanced Katara's way before he told Azula to lead them along so he could corner her date for some back room dealing. Leave it to her to sleep with the competition just to make a buck.

His mother, on the other hand, was ever the social butterfly. She cooed over Katara to an uncomfortable level – to Zuko, at least – before inviting her to a family dinner after the holidays were over. He had to give his girlfriend credit; she actually seemed sincere and sweet when she told the older woman that it would be "wonderful."

Of course, immediately afterward she shot him that _look_ that asked whether they were always like this… and all he could do was shrug. She'd get used to it, he hoped. He had.

Azula, unfortunately for both of them, knew exactly what she was doing. She was too crafty to go straight for the kill. No, she took her time, knowing he would squirm. It was over an hour into their stay before she even brought them to a halt in front of the last face he wanted to see.

"Mai," he managed before Azula got a word in edgewise. That, at least, he counted a marginal victory.

"Ah, so you do remember. Have the holidays made you sentimental, Zuzu?"

"Mai? As in…?" Katara looked at him questioningly. All he managed was a slight nod before Azula cut in again.

"Right, sweetie. The only woman Zuko ever thought seriously enough to marry. That is, assuming he hasn't proposed to you already and has just been keeping it one big secret," she said, with that same falsely sweet smile fixed so tackily in place.

Luckily for all of them, Mai had outgrown Azula's games right around the same time she outgrew Zuko—or that's how he thought of it. "Azula, don't you have other guests to patronize?" was delivered in her usual monotone.

Even Azula was smart enough to take a hint. "Fine, fine. I'll go find Ty Lee. She's always fun."

As soon as they were alone – comparatively – Mai took it upon herself to initiate. "So you must be Katara."

"Yes," Katara recovered admirably, extending a hand for a polite shake. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Don't lie." Zuko almost winced. Leave it to Mai to cut through the pretenses.

But it did surprise him when, after a moment of his ex scrutinizing his current flame, she ventured, "Actually, I don't think you're lying." _Not like Azula_, her pinched expression said.

"Uh, thank you," Katara said, looking at him questioningly again. Clearly, this wasn't what she'd expected meeting his ex for the first time.

Truth be told, it wasn't what he'd expected either. There were still hard feelings in the break-up, and the way he couldn't meet Mai's eyes for more than two seconds at a time told any onlooker that much. He wouldn't have blamed her if the claws had come out.

"Well, I know how awkward this ex thing can get so let's make it short," she intoned, still sizing up the much shorter woman before tossing him a sidelong glance. "Zuko can be a royal jerk sometimes. I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into."

With a shrug, Mai took her leave—and Zuko suspected she was leaving the party entirely. Why she'd been there in the first place was something he'd have to take up with his mother.

At least he could breathe a sigh of relief. All the fire and brimstone he had worried about had passed, and just as he was about to suggest they get the heck out of there before anything else could step in to fill those 'shoes,' Katara turned on him. "What did you do to her?"

_Gulp_. "I'll… tell you in the car."

* * *

They fully intended on staying the whole time—at least Zuko did. It bought him another hour or two before he'd have to spill the beans. He wasn't even sure how to tell the story. It was all one big convoluted mess.

But it seemed fate could take another twist in their favor… sort of. With the preponderance of rum in that eggnog they were serving, it was only a matter of time before things got out of hand. He had chosen to refrain – as had Katara – but his coworkers, well, they were a different story.

And when his secretary, Jin, decided to commandeer the microphone from the live band so she could announce her years-long and undying love for him, it was clearly time for them to leave.

"Oh my god, we are _never_ doing that again."

He was just glad Katara said it. Then he could agree with it. (This was, of course, after she forced him to promise he'd get a new secretary after the holidays.)

"Now, tell me about Mai."

Damn. He knew it was a bit too optimistic to harbor any hope that the 'incident' might throw her off that trail.

Still, she deserved to know. If only he could articulate… Who was he kidding? He could never articulate. "I just really screwed up," about summed it all up.

The look she gave him clued him in that she was waiting for elaboration. Probably a lot of it.

"Okay, well, Mai and I grew up together. Her dad's one of our partners. Our company invests a lot of money in his business."

All she did was nod. He took the opportunity to ease the car out of the parking lot. Once they got into traffic, he'd have an excuse not to look at her while he told the rest of the miserable tale.

"So we dated through high school and college. Everyone just expected us to get married. I proposed when I graduated. She still had a year left and I had my MBA to get…"

He saw more nodding out of the corner of his eye. At least she was following along… "She did this study abroad thing in Europe, and got invited to do some graduate work there. And I kind of… told her she shouldn't do it."

To her credit, he didn't hear a gasp—but he did see her frown. She still didn't say anything.

"It was stupid, and I was being selfish. I loved her. I wanted to be with her. But I had my job by then, and school, and she just wanted a lot more than what our parents had 'planned' for us."

"That's understandable," Katara finally chimed in, her tone unreadable. He guessed she was upset, but on what level and to what degree was impossible to know.

"I know. I don't blame her. But when she picked Europe over me I just… lost it. I told her she should just stay over there because there'd be nothing for her here if she ever came back."

He hated the silence that followed. They went through at least three intersections before he even dared to glance her way and she asked, "Is that it?"

Full disclosure, he had to tell himself. His sister was just vindictive enough that she might exaggerate any details he left out. "I might have told her that she was nothing more than a business connection with benefits."

Before she could berate him for being a total douchebag like he knew he was, he went on, "I know it was awful. She's never forgiven me, and I know that's exactly what I deserve. I was just hurt and I lost my temper and I've never been good at talking anyway—"

"Zuko," she cut in, even going so far as to put her hand over his on the gear shift. "I know. You do suck at talking."

"Anyway." He expelled a sigh out of the corner of his mouth and chanced another look her way as they rolled to a stop at a red light. "My sister, her friends, Mai, they just don't think I can ever not be, you know, _that_ guy. And for awhile, I believed them."

Her hand hadn't left his. That was almost more promising than her slight quirk of a smile. "So what changed?"

"I met you." Again, he didn't give her a chance to interject when he hurried on to say, "You're just the first girl that I've dated that doesn't want something from me. I feel like I can finally be myself. And if I make mistakes, it's not the end of the world."

She continued to stay quiet, although he could see her smile shift toward something he couldn't put a name on. Her thumb brushed the back of his palm after another moment, prompting him to blurt out, "I don't know, I'm not good at explaining things." Like he'd just admitted.

"I think you did a great job explaining," and he believed her when she continued to wear that smile.

They continued to ride in silence, but it felt comfortable, and much more like usual. It was only at her doorstep that she spoke again, that smile still clinging to her mouth as she adjusted the corner of his collar and tipped her chin back for their typical goodnight kiss.

Before he could place it, however, she told him, "I like _you_, Zuko. I don't want anything from you except for you to be yourself." He was just about to lean in again when she added, "But if you tell me I'm anything 'with benefits' I'll smack you so hard across the face you'll think my hand was a block of ice."

After all they'd been through that evening, he had to laugh. "I think that's fair," he replied, as he reached to tuck a strand of hair from her face. "Now can I kiss—"

But she didn't even let him finish.


End file.
